


never seen the sky

by wearethewitches



Series: holly and rose-briar [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Maleficent (Disney Movies)
Genre: Adoption, Angst and Feels, Children, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dimension Travel, Fairy Tale Elements, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Movie: Maleficent: Mistress of Evil, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24971731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearethewitches/pseuds/wearethewitches
Summary: Briar lives in the Moors. He belongs there.He hopes.or, the years between.
Relationships: Diaval/Maleficent (Disney), Maleficent (Disney) & Harry Potter
Series: holly and rose-briar [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806016
Comments: 18
Kudos: 311





	never seen the sky

Briar’s most favourite place in the Moors is the Pool of Jewels.

Some of the fairies like to watch him when he plays in the waters there, some eager just as he is, to play and be merry, but there are others that watch suspiciously from the shadows. Briar tries to ignore them, recalling the teachers at primary school who would look at him through narrowed eyes and the neighbours who blatantly watched him at the park; he can’t do anything about them, except be normal and pretend they’re not there.

Either way, though, they don’t _stop_ him from playing. Briar likes to splash about and pretend to be a frog, ducking his chin and mouth underwater and crawl on his hands and knees through the stream. The cave behind the vines is a secret hide-away when he plays hide and seek with Diaval – even _She_ doesn’t stop him from playing in the cave, calling out like She doesn’t know he’s inside whenever it’s time for eating.

 _She_ is Briar’s favourite person in the Moors. With wings like a bird that lifts her high into the air, sharp cheekbones that are beautiful and not ugly like Aunt Petunia’s, her tall, curling horns that would scrape the ceiling of a normal house the single most mythical thing Briar has ever seen, _She_ is Briar’s nameless saviour. He often wonders what her name is and he longs to ask, but it sounds silly, not knowing her name and having to ask. Aurora calls her _Godmother,_ because She is Aurora’s fairy godmother, like in the stories. Briar sometimes imagines that he’s in a storybook himself – he’s very, _very_ sure that Aurora’s tale is _Sleeping Beauty._

In any case, Briar just can’t _ask_ what Her name is. He could ask Diaval, who treats Briar like how Uncle Vernon treats Dudley, but then Diaval would probably tell Her and Briar would have to go home, because he insulted Her.

Walking through the forest, the young boy nervously bites his lip. Whenever he looks up, the sky seems to be getting darker and darker. Night will come soon. Briar twists his neck further back, struggling to see the stars – _She_ stayed up late with him two weeks ago, pointing out which stars to follow, if he ever got lost at night. But Briar can’t see the stars, the canopy above blocking them out.

Unwillingly, Briar lets out a whimper, hand slamming over his mouth. He can’t make noises like that or he’ll get in trouble. Briar runs through the forest, adrenaline pounding through his veins. He _has_ to get back to Aurora’s treehouse in the ground, where Briar has a nest of blankets and moss, with pillows and a special blue-green cape from Phillip, Aurora’s friend. Madly, Briar wonders if Diaval will take that special cape away as punishment for not coming home on time.

Then abruptly, Briar trips over, chin slamming to the ground. He lets out a yell, hearing what can only be an echo as he looks to his feet, a copper tang filling his mouth before his tongue ignites in pain. Faintly, he can see the blurry outline of a tree-root, but his bitten tongue takes all his concentration – it hurts!

“-is that a child? Hello? _HELLO?”_

Briar goes quiet, jaw clamping down as his mouth fills with blood. He looks around, recoiling at the sudden light of a lantern, a Human man coming out from behind a large tree.

“Oi, what’s this?” The man mutters, edging closer. “What’s a child like you, doing out here? These are the Moors, boy, neither of us supposed to be here…Men shouldn’t tread the Moors like they’re kingdoms of Men…”

 _No!_ Briar wants to scream a denial. The Moors are his home – Diaval said the Moors are his home! But the Man comes closer and Briar can only cringe as he pulls him to his feet by his arm, muttering about a mother that doesn’t exist and how she’ll be missing him.

“I’ll bring you to the edge, I’ve got a boat, see?” The man mutters, “Can come back tomorrow – the guard’ll find your parents.”

The man starts pulling him further into the forest and this time, Briar starts struggling, shaking his head again and again. The man’s grip tightens and he says in a strict voice, “Behave. I’m helping you. I’m taking you home.”

_I AM HOME!_

Something fizzles up inside him and the man abruptly yells, hand flying away from Briar’s arm as he stumbles back. His lantern shakes and in the brightness of its rays, Briar can see the third-degree burns that have overtaken his hand and arm.

“Changeling! Fairy-child! Get away from me! Devil!”

Briar, feeling a petty vindication, spits his mouthful of blood at the man, who swears and continues to back away. “Am already home!” He yells in return, turning around and running back the way he came.

Because if there’s one thing the man said that was true, it was this: Men should not be in the Moors.

* * *

Her eyes glitter in yellow fury at his tale, bundling him against her in an opposing gentleness. Briar shuts his eyes tightly, feeling safe inside the embrace of his winged saviour.

“The missing mushroom fairies,” She hisses, as if his story is an answer. “Aurora, you must tell Phillip in the morning. This will not continue.”

“No,” Aurora says, in agreement. Her worried voice twists Briar’s heart around. “Oh Briar, I’m so happy he did not manage to take you away, too.”

Briar stays quiet, only peeking out of Her embrace to look at Aurora, his self-proclaimed sister. He still does not know how to react to that – she hasn’t said it again, since. She is fair-haired and beautiful and he’s just…Briar. A freak, not that these kind people know. He thinks of the Dursley’s and their reminders. He’s a freak and a burden. Selfishly, just as the Dursley’s have called him, Briar wants to keep this new family, who don’t know the things the Dursley’s do.

He doesn’t think they’d keep him if they knew the damage he did to the man.

That’s why Briar doesn’t speak much – the few sentences he used to tell Her what happened in the forest is the most he’s spoken in months. Briar doesn’t trust himself not to say something stupid. If they learnt how much he hurt that man…

Diaval’s familiar hand brushes his back, rubbing in circles. He sits beside Briar and his saviour, looking at Briar with his usual piercing eyes, looking for any and all damage.

“Did he hurt you, emerald?”

Briar attempts to shrug, but She is already searching, pushing away his shirt – which is so much softer than Dudley’s old ones – and stretching out his arms. When She sees his arm, a beastly hiss escapes her, for a red, hand-shaped mark is already beginning to bruise his skin.

“Oh!” Aurora exclaims dismally.

“Maleficent,” then murmurs Diaval, anger clear. Briar’s brow furrows. He’s heard him say that word before – what does it mean?

His saviour summons the golden dust that she uses to grow flowers and trees, then. Briar watches in frightened awe as it sinks into his skin and vanishes the growing bruise from existence. Suddenly, Briar wonders-

Briar wonders if it’s _magic._

The word _magic_ is banned in the Dursley household. Even Dudley isn’t allowed to say the m-word. But Briar knows that magic isn’t real…isn’t it?

Lip trembling, Briar draws together his courage to ask in a hush, “Are you a witch?”

The treehouse quiets. The three adults stare at him like he’s said something utterly surprising and Briar can’t help but shrink into Her embrace again, even as he knows She’s looking at him the same way. _Stupid,_ he scolds himself, _magic isn’t real._

“Briar,” Diaval says his name slowly, “Do you know what Maleficent is?”

There’s that word again. Briar pauses only to glance at Her and back, mumbling, “What’s a malecifent?”

“Maleficent,” his saviour corrects, brushing his long fringe aside, skirting around his scar as always. Every time she touches it, even accidentally, Briar has seen her flinch. “My name is Maleficent, Briarheart.”

“…oh,” Briar murmurs in wonder. _Maleficent._ It’s a pretty name. “Pretty,” he says aloud.

“Thank-you, my darling,” She – Maleficent – says to him. “My name is Maleficent and I am a Dark Fae, child. I am a fairy with a mastery of nature magics. I can use my powers for many things – perhaps unlimited things – but I primarily use them in defence of the Moors, as its Guardian.”

“And I am Diaval,” Diaval interrupts to say, “and I am a Raven that Maleficent transformed into a Human, giving me a Man’s mind. She transforms me into other things, like wolves and dragons and a part of them lives in me, too. But most of the time, I am a Raven-Man or simply a glorious Raven.”

“Indeed,” Maleficent chuckles, before Aurora tentatively continues the over-due introductions. Briar listens to them all with focussed intent.

“My parents named me Aurora. I was born a Princess of Perceforest, but I am the Queen there, now. Godmother – Maleficent – named me Queen of the Moors when I awoke from the sleeping curse and…well…I suppose if I were to marry Phillip, I would be a Princess of Ulstead.”

“Marry?” Briar blurts out in time with his saviour, Maleficent’s voice high in indignation while his own tells of his confusion.

“A discussion for later!” Diaval exclaims, as if heading off some argument. Briar doesn’t quite understand why, too busy wondering why Aurora and Phillip are getting married.

The only married couples Briar has ever seen are the Dursley’s and the neighbours on Privet Drive and all the parents of the children at St. Grogory’s Primary, who all act stuffy and awful. Married people _hate_ Briar. If Aurora is going to turn into that, then Briar doesn’t want her to marry anyone – or Phillip, for that matter. Briar likes Phillip. He doesn’t want either of them to turn into horrible people, just because- just because…

Why do people even _get_ married?

Shaking his head, Briar starts playing with the hem of Maleficent’s dress, considering her name. It really is pretty and unique to boot. Briar remembers his old name – there was another Harry in his new primary two class and they always got mixed up with each other, when adults called their names. Briar’s glad to have a new name. He doesn’t know _anyone_ named Briar.

A gentle hand comes up to take his own and Briar looks up to see Her- to see _Maleficent,_ who looks faintly curious.

“Do you have another name of your own that you remember, Briar?”

Panic seizes his heart. “No!” He abruptly yells, paling at his own loudness. He’s _definitely_ going to get punished, now. “Yes,” he frantically changes his mind, “I’m sorry!”

Confounded, Maleficent shushes him quietly, running her hand through his hair. Briar has never known Maleficent to be cruel like Uncle Vernon, but he flinches all the same, remembering how Uncle Vernon would grab him and pull him everywhere. Maleficent, not expecting his reaction, flinches herself and it leaves Briar in a conundrum. She flinched, too – why?

“…I like being called Briar,” he eventually ends up mumbling into the silence, chewing on his lip. His tongue still hurts and he can feel the grooves of his own teeth in the abused muscle. Briar hesitantly sticks it out, showing off all his teeth at the same time. Maleficent goes through a flurry of emotion, before lifting her hand, that golden dust – that _magic_ – healing the self-inflicted bite.

“Is there…is there anything else you’d like to say, Briar?” She asks, tentative and quiet. Briar likes that she’s quiet. Her hands drifts to his hair again, brushing through it and this time, Briar pushes into it, trying to assure her that he’s sorry, that he likes it. Her hand settles on his head and then she’s kissing his cheek, giving him the smallest of pecks.

Briar gazes at her in awe.

He’s never been kissed before.

Diaval murmurs, “Briar?” reminding him that he’s been asked a question. The three adults wait for him to answer in expectant silence – Aurora doesn’t even look like she’s _breathing._ Concerned, Briar frowns at her. Diaval follows his gaze and smiles slightly, prodding her. “He won’t answer if you’re turning blue, diamond.”

Aurora breathes, finally, gaze torn between their Raven and Briar himself. Briar can’t help his small smile, even as he nervously looks at Maleficent again, wanting to answer her question. He opens his mouth to speak, then finds he doesn’t know what to say. Blinking rapidly, Briar wrinkles his nose, then recalls what she asked him.

_Is there anything else you’d like to say?_

Briar wants to say that he likes the Moors better than Privet Drive and he wants to stay forever. Briar wants to say that he thinks he loves them and that he can’t remember ever loving anyone. There are so many things he wants to say…but something else occurs to him and it makes him feel sick inside, like he’s eaten bad food or Dudley’s made him eat mud again.

“Can-” he stutters over his words, knowing in his heart that whatever happens next, he really, _really_ deserves “-can you heal him?”

Alarmed, Maleficent asks, “Heal who, Briar?”

“The man. I burned him. I didn’t want to go and he had me,” Briar reaches, clasping the place where his bruise was magicked away, “and then his whole arm was burned. I didn’t mean to, but I hurt him and- and-” he hiccoughs, tears pricking at his eyes.

Maleficent wipes his cheeks, still so gentle. Briar doesn’t deserve it. “I am able, but I will not,” she says very firmly, making Briar go still. “I don’t know how you did it, but I believe you when you say you did this thing and I _also_ believe it wise to defend yourself, when someone is trying to take you away from the Moors.”

“Briar has magic?” Aurora wonders aloud, sounding confused. Briar shrinks automatically at the word, old reflexes returning to the fore. To Aurora, he whispers.

“Not allowed to use the m-word. Not real.”

“We’ve already had this conversation,” says Maleficent. She reaches to turn Briar’s face by his chin, looking deep into his eyes. “I am a magical creature. So is Diaval – and so, it seems, are you. Magic comes from the earth and it is as natural as the air you breathe and the sun in the sky. I suspect-” and she stops speaking, the same way adults stop speaking when they realise children are listening.

But Briar doesn’t care for once, absorbing all of what she says and realising that _she doesn’t care_. Maleficent has magic and- and if the Dursley’s didn’t like Briar because _he_ has magic, then they’d hate Maleficent, too. Briar and Maleficent are the _same._

Because they’re _magic._

So, Briar reaches up with his arms and hugs her himself, rather than just letting himself be held. He wraps his thin arms around her neck and buries his head in her hair, that smells like the wind and something purely _Maleficent_.

 _We’re the same,_ he thinks, over and over. _We’re the same!_

“Oh, Briarheart…”

And she hugs him back, wings curling around them both and hiding them from the world.

* * *

The King of Ulstead is a kind old man, unlike his screechy wife, who Briar hears lives in the dungeons when not eating dinner with Phillip and his family. Briar is very pleased to hear that _he_ is part of Phillip’s family, now that Aurora has married him.

“My son has always wanted a sibling,” says the King, who teaches Briar his letters and his numbers whenever he visits. Briar finds it easier to talk to the King than anyone he knows, strangely, though he knows he’s speaking more to his Moors family. He even tells the King about his aunt and uncle, who promises not to tell anyone. Briar likes the King. He gets to call him _John_.

Sometimes, Briar and the King wander through the library instead of doing lessons, taking out any book Briar likes to decipher, whether it’s in the new language of Ulstead – and the surrounding kingdoms – or from somewhere far away, where the words use tone as a way to tell the difference between words that would otherwise sound exactly the same. The first time Briar speaks to Maleficent in a language she doesn’t know, she makes the most funny face!

Diaval, of course, waits until Briar has already started saying something about Maleficent’s said funny face before replying. The Raven-Man scoops him up and chastises him for speaking in a tongue his mother does not, which is confusing in its own right.

“But I don’t have a mum,” Briar replies in their normal language, frowning. Diaval’s smile turns upside-down in an instant and Briar knows he’s done something wrong. Grasping at Diaval’s coat, he looks to Maleficent for help, not knowing how to make Diaval smile again, but there’s an expression across her face that he doesn’t recognise. “Maleficent?”

“Mistress, I-” Diaval begins, swallowing loudly. He purses his lips, then asks her, “He calls you Maleficent. Even Aurora has never called you that and she claims him as her brother.” His tone is insistent and Briar is so _lost._

“We should not talk about this with Briar here,” says Maleficent, severely.

Diaval, agitated, disagrees. “No, he should be involved. It’s about _him_ and whoever those people were, they clearly weren’t his parents. He’s never asked for his mother or father and-”

“My mum and dad died,” Briar interrupts, because they shouldn’t talk like he’s not there. Holding onto Diaval’s coat tighter, he says again, “My mum and dad died. All I remember is- all I remember is _green._ ”

“Dark magic,” Maleficent murmurs, making Briar jerk. The fairy draws closer, brushing his fringe away, as careful as ever. She doesn’t say anything for the longest time and neither Briar nor Diaval interrupt her as she thinks deeply on something. But eventually, she looks Briar in the eyes and asks in a stilted voice, “Would you… _prefer_ a mother? Is it something you wish for? Want, for?”

Briar imagines having a mother. He doesn’t know what to think of, when he imagines one. Slowly, however, he thinks of Aunt Petunia and Dudley. Having a mother would mean praise, love, hugs and kisses before bed at night. Briar’s brow furrows, however – because Maleficent and Diaval do that already. Hugs are given out freely and praise, every time he does something good or well. Even King John praises him for finishing schoolwork.

“I don’t need one,” he eventually states. “I’ve got you and Diaval and King John and Phillip and Aurora.”

“Maleficent acts like your mother,” Diaval cuts in like always, as if pointing it out. Maleficent glares at him for the briefest of moments, though Briar doesn’t know why, going red. He swallows deeply, ignoring the heat in his cheeks as he finally puts all the puzzle-pieces together.

“And you’re my dad,” says Briar. It’s Diaval turn to turn red, now and there’s a strangeness to Maleficent’s face. Briar asks himself if he wants to call them his mother and father. Unsurprisingly, the answer is an overwhelming _YES_ and Briar wonders if they’ve been waiting for him to say so. It’s not like with Aurora calling him her brother – Briar doesn’t think that’s the same. You can have lots of siblings.

But parents are special.

“Do you want to be?” He asks, tentative, not knowing what they’ll say. They could say _anything._ Briar starts to panic when he sees Diaval crying, the Raven-Man quick to rub at his eyes.

“Fledgling, I’d love that, honestly and truly.”

Hiding behind his fringe, Briar looks to Maleficent, waiting for her answer. For the longest time, she seems frozen in place, like time has stopped and again, he has to wait for her to stop thinking; except this time, the longer it goes on, the more panicked and impatient he gets. Why won’t she _answer?_

Unfortunately for Briar, that moment is when a new enemy decides to attack Ulstead from the sea.

* * *

The Dark Fae can be reasoned with and corralled. However, the damage they do frightens Briar and when the most terrifying of them all, a beastly fairy known as _Borra_ , invades Aurora’s treehouse home, Briar cannot be held liable for his actions.

“Phoenix! I will not stand for this! Your servant is stepping out of his bounds and-” he shouts, wings out and splayed as far as they can go inside the earthen hall. Inside his hollow, Briar screams and Borra yells back at the noise, cutting himself off to glare at Briar menacingly.

“Contain yourself!” Maleficent commands thunderously, standing in front of him. Far more used to the confining space, Maleficent’s wings manage to buffer the wind against him without scraping against the walls, green spiralling through the air as her eyes glimmer. “You are trespassing, Borra!”

The other Dark Fae sneers, spitting, “Your crow attempts to order us away from potential homes and it is happening again and again – and yet you do _nothing!”_

“Diaval is my voice and you will listen to him,” replies Maleficent in a snarl. “We have been over this. Leave! You are not welcome in this home!”

Borra, incensed, takes a step forwards and Briar, his heart pounding in his chest, feels an outrageous anger boil inside of him. It swells in his gut, making his fingers tingle with warmth.

“Leave,” he echoes, ducking under Maleficent’s wing and holding his hands out. “Leave!” He shouts. He can feel it – his magic – bubbling and boiling, ready to let loose in a torrent. Briar wants to let it.

He scoffs, however, Borra looking at Briar like he’s miniscule and worth less than the dirt beneath his feet. “Human spawn.”

“I’m not Human – I’m _magic!”_ Briar replies, before golden energy flies from his hands. It looks like fire and he can see Borra’s eyes go wide in fear before he flattens himself against the left-side wall. Briar doesn’t realise he’s screaming until the tunnel of golden flame sputters out, his throat raw as he draws in a harsh breath, swaying on his feet.

Maleficent’s shout of “Briar!” is loud as he collapses to his knees, her arms and wings around him a safety he knows all the way down to his bones. Maleficent snarls at Borra, ordering him _OUT_ , her hands worrying over his face and hands. Briar feels like all the energy has been drained out of him, exhaustion hitting him like a wave.

“Briar, my child, my Briarheart,” Maleficent murmurs faintly, gathering him in her arms. Briar hears and feels her worry, but in truth, all he feels is tired – nothing wrong in the slightest beyond needing to sleep.

“I’m okay,” he says faintly. “Maleficent-”

“Mother,” she corrects in an instant, cupping his face. “I am your mother and nothing less, Briar. Oh, I am sorry if I ever caused you harm by denying it.”

“Mum?” Briar mumbles, a faint joy in his heart. But his eyelids flutter shut, sleep beginning to overtake him, “Mum…”

_“BRIAR!”_

* * *

He lives.

Obviously.

Except now Briar has to learn how to control his magic with the Dark Fae elders and sometimes, Maleficent – but his mother gets too frustrated that he can’t do things immediately, like she can. It sets them apart, which is odd to Briar, who is so used to thinking of them as _the same._

But time passes. Briar grows older. He still swims in the Pool of Jewels, pretending to be a frog – and sometimes a fish – and officially declares the cave behind the vines his secret hide-out. The weekly visits to Ulstead don’t wane, King John giving more of his duties to Phillip – and Aurora by default – so he can tutor Briar in all the Human subjects he wants to know. Briar even makes a proper friend out of a daisy-fairy, who can’t speak but is very enthusiastic about getting their point across in discussions; Briar calls them Sunny.

And then, he sees his mum and dad kissing each other in the shade of a tree, startling when he asks what they’re doing. They don’t get very far in their explanations before Briar says he’ll ask Aurora instead, if they’re busy – and Aurora was _very_ excited to learn of their so-called ‘relationship’. According to his sister – who Briar still sometimes forgets to call his sister – she didn’t know they _weren’t_ together until after she became Queen of the Moors, so it’s lovely to her that they’ve ‘finally got their act together’.

“Honestly,” Briar says to Sunny, “I don’t see what the big deal is. They’re my mum and dad. Aren’t they supposed to kiss?”

Sunny raises their grassy eyebrows sceptically.

Briar blinks.

“Wait, you don’t have to be parents _and_ kissing?”

Truthfully, after Maleficent and Diaval’s relationship blooms, the Moors seem that little bit more peaceful, his parents more in sync and…Briar doesn’t know the right word. Happy seems too lively. They’ve settled, perhaps and they’re _contented._ He rather likes that term – not even _Borra_ can argue against it, after they declare themselves mates in front of the Flower Throne. Though frankly, Briar’s more interested in the blue lightshow on the big rock, magic flowing through all the circular lines that represent the power of the Moors.

The years go on, though. Spring comes, summer fades into autumn and winter turns into spring again. Briar could live forever in the Moors amongst the fairies, though he wants to travel the world one day, just for a little bit – King John is getting older and Briar doesn’t want to have wasted his time learning so much from him and doing nothing with all the knowledge that King John has taught him. On and on and on…

And then-

The letter arrives.


End file.
